“We’ll see.”
Frustration swirled through me. I wondered—and not for the first time—if continuing a relationship with Quinn was worth all the angst. Then I remembered the sex, and thought, Hell, yeah, it most certainly was. Still, I couldn’t help asking, “Why won’t you give this fantasy up? Why not settle for what you can have—you and me in an ongoing but not mutually exclusive arrangement?”
He raised the eyebrow again. “Are you willing to give up your white picket fences and two-point-five kids dream?”
“No—”
“Then do not tell me to give up what I desire.”
“The difference is I’m not trying to force my dreams on anyone. You are.”
He didn’t answer, his gaze going to the house instead. Part of me figured it was little more than a ruse to avoid answering a difficult accusation, but I lowered a shield and stretched out telepathically anyway. Not toward him, which would be a stupid thing to do considering his telepathic skills could sweep mine under the nearby daisies and stomp all over them, but toward the house. Only my telepathic “beam” somehow mingled with Quinn’s, and while I couldn’t actually hear his thoughts because of his shields, the resulting mix triggered some sort of weird amplification between us and those within the house.
Voices sprang into focus—not just one person, but everyone in the house—in some strange sort of “conference call.” I was hearing their thoughts as conversations, in real time. Weird, totally weird.
And yet another sign the drugs I’d been injected with were continuing to affect my body and my psi-skills in unexpected ways.
“We can’t afford to have this O’Conor person sniffing around much longer.” Jin’s mental tones were filled with simmering tension—tension that was both sexual and physical. “He’s getting too close.”
“We’re trying our best to get rid of him,” another voice said, the mental tone mild and yet filled with an underlying iciness. Only it was more an inhumanity than any mere coldness, and it had my soul shivering.
“Obviously, you’re not trying hard enough.” The words were practically spat. Jin was a very unhappy boy indeed. The thought cheered me no end.“The demons are having trouble tracking his life force. It’s intermittent.” The voice was female, and presumably Maisie Foster. Something in the way she spoke was oddly familiar—though why I had no idea.
“He’s a fucking vampire—how could his life force be intermittent?”
“Because before he was a vampire he was something else. He almost destroyed me once. I do not wish to risk it again.”
The annoyance I’d felt earlier increased tenfold. Quinn had already told me that before he’d become a vampire, he’d been something more than human, so that in itself was no surprise. But he’d conveniently forgotten to add that that something had already met this evil.
“I have my reasons for keeping secrets,” he said softly, without even looking at me.
“And I’ve just about had enough of your secrets and lies. You could have saved the Directorate so much time and energy if you’d just told us what you knew from the beginning.”
Not to mention the fact that his admission might have prevented my needing to fuck the creep. I didn’t want to sleep with bad guys just to get information—and Quinn was well aware of that fact. Hell, he hated the fact that I was doing it, so why not come forth with information if it could have prevented it?
“Because I did not know that your case and mine were one and the same.”
Mainly because he didn’t bother to check. But I resisted the urge to say the words out loud. Those inside the house were still talking, and right now, getting information that might end this case was far more important than sorting out a vampire determined to get his own way—whether it be on the case or in our relationship.
“He could destroy us again if we do not proceed cautiously,” the deep voice said. “He is one of the few on this earth who even remembers us as anything more than legend.”
“So, we sit around and twiddle our thumbs until his life force becomes strong enough for the demons to track?”
“No,” Maisie said. “I intend to conjure a stronger class of demon, but it takes time to summon them. I’ve had to send the sub-demons back to hell so I have the energy reserves required.”
I glanced at Quinn as Jin began questioning Maisie further. “Sounds to me like we need to contain Maisie Foster.”
“If we take her out of the picture, we warn the others.”
“They already know you’re after them.”
“But they do not know the Directorate is after them.”
I snorted. “If these are the people responsible for the sacrifices, then they know we’re after them.”
“But they are not yet aware how close you are to them.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that—we think Gautier’s one of them. The death head, in fact.”
He glanced at me sharply.
“Yeah,” I added. “We figured out some of the history. But it’d be nice if you took some time out of your busy schedule to fill in the blanks.”
“If Gautier is the death head, then Jin knows you’re a guardian. That makes it even more important that you stay away from him.”
“He doesn’t know.”
“You cannot be sure—”
“I can, because the one thing Gautier wants, besides power, is my destruction at his hands. He’ll give up his soul, he’ll give up control of his body, but he won’t give up that.”
“You’d trust your life on that fact?”
“Yes.” I glanced back at the house. “If we snatch Maisie, they’ll just think that you took her out.”
He studied me, his features carefully neutral. It was a look I’d seen many times before—usually right before he told me some lie.
“Maisie Foster is an extremely powerful sorceress. It will not be easy to take her out.”
“Even so, it’d be a hell of a lot easier to remove her from the scene than one of the dragons, wouldn’t it?” It was a question aimed more at Rhoan than Quinn. I had no doubt that, between me and Quinn, we could handle Maisie, but I didn’t want to do anything without official approval.
“Capture her, you mean?” Quinn asked.
I nodded. “I’m sure Jack will want to chat with her.”
“She will never ‘chat,’ nor could Jack or the Directorate contain her.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Why?”
“Because, as I said, she is an extremely powerful sorceress. Magic cannot be contained by psychic powers or technical devices.”
“But it can be contained via other means?”
“Yes.” He hesitated. “To be honest, I do not think the effort worth it. She will die before she tells us anything about her master.”
“John Kingsley is her half brother, not her master.”
“John Kingsley no longer exists. Nor do any of the other men inside that house. They are merely living, breathing receptacles for the spirits of evil.”
Jin and that blond man I’d seen in the fitness club might be just shells, but the creepy spirit I knew as Gautier was still well and truly present. I shivered, and tried to ignore the fact that I’d been fucking something that didn’t even belong on this plane of existence.
“But how can spirits march in and take over someone’s body like that?”
“Magic. Blood magic.” He looked at me. “And they need regular, willing sacrifices to maintain their existence.”
“Hence the bodies we’re finding.” And the reason they were going after those with extreme sexual tastes. “Why willing victims? A sacrifice is a sacrifice, isn’t it?”
“The dragons may need the taste of pain, despair, and the fear of death to feed, but the god of darkness himself grows strong on the acquiescence to evil.”
“That doesn’t entirely make sense considering his dragons feed on pain, despair, and death.”
“But Angra Mainyu is the god of darkness, the eternal destroyer of good. He feeds on the enjoyment of darkness and death.”
This was all getting a little weird for me. “However much these people enjoy pain, I can’t see how they’d willingly go to their deaths. Have you seen what he does to these people?”
He hesitated. “Yes. But the desire for pain is often a growing one, and these people are carefully pushed to crave more and more, until only death will bring them the ultimate satisfaction.”Visions of Jan rose. The mess of her back, the way she needed—begged—for me to finish it. How long had Jin and his cronies been working her up to that point? How long would it be before she became the next victim found neatly sliced and diced on some warehouse floor?
“Trouble is,” I said, repressing a shudder, “he doesn’t just feed on the joy of killing them.”
“No. The flesh of heart and liver and kidney are sweet on the tongue.”
“I do not even want to contemplate how you know that.”
The smile that touched his lips was gentle, and yet somehow sad. “I have been a vampire a very long time, Riley. And all vampires, whether they admit it or not, have their dark times.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to know about them.”
“You should, because they are a part of what I am.”